


The Darkest Hour

by Shadowlover



Category: Renault Clio "30 Years in the Making" Commercial
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28137093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowlover/pseuds/Shadowlover
Summary: With thanks to my betas!
Relationships: Sieza/Gemma
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	The Darkest Hour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GotTheSilver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GotTheSilver/gifts).



With an exasperated sigh, Gemma tore the latest failure from the top of her notebook and crumpled it into a frustrated ball. Tossed across the room, it joined a little puddle of others on the floor around the bin. She had never been the one who was good at writing letters, that had always been Sieza. It was Sieza that had the soul of a poet, and Sieza who always seemed to be able to find the words she needed to express what was important to her. Sieza’s letters had always been eloquent and evocative, and Gemma had treasured each and every one them. Well, every one of them except the last, the letter that had ended her dreams.

Anyway, it wasn't quite true that she had never been any good at writing letters, was it? Yes, she had always been clumsy with words, better at showing her feelings by doing and being than by saying. But with Sieza's letters to inspire her, she had learnt to spread the things she felt and thought out on to the page for her beloved. She’d learnt to describe the long, lingering kisses that she so desperately wanted to trail across that precious body, the way she would run her hands down that long, elegant back and caress those beautiful thighs…

She'd learnt too well, it seemed, because she must no longer write such things to the woman who could now only be a friend, and yet when she stopped concentrating, they slipped out on to the page. That, despite the deep hurt she still felt that Sieza had chosen to turn away from her and marry _that man_.

After the letter that Sieza had first mentioned _him_ in, they had hardly spoken for two years. After all that time being so close, Gemma had felt bereft without her. She hadn't expected the invitation to their wedding, but when it had come, she'd wondered if Sieza, too, was wistfully remembering that they had been best friends long before they were lovers.

All they'd exchanged at the ceremony was a glance, but Gemma hoped it meant that they could be friends again, stay in touch, and swap letters about music and books, even if it would never be quite the same. But if that was going to happen, she needed to send this letter, and to do that, she somehow had to make her errant mind and fingers behave. Only, the memories kept intruding.

Sieza bouncing with delight, her silky hair floating in the air around her. Running her fingers through that glorious hair; burying her nose in it and drowning in the smell of her.

The taste of Sieza’s lips, sweet and sticky with candyfloss, in an endless perfect moment at the top of the ferris wheel they hadn’t even meant to go on.

The feel of Sieza’s body warming under her hands after a dip in the ocean, the cold of the water driven out by shared heat and passion.

The joy of waking together, happy and exhausted; of getting up and eating pancakes and then deciding to go right back to bed.

The pain in her heart when the letter came...

Another ball joined the gathering flock on the floor by the bin. In some ways, the screwed up paper was a better expression of her feelings than any words could be: crumpled and crushed; discarded for not being good enough.

It was so hard not to be resentful. Gemma hadn’t spoken to her father since she moved out; wasn’t sure she ever wanted to again after the things he’d said. Sieza had been worth it, but was it worth it for this emptiness?

Sieza did love _him_ , as far as Gemma had been able to tell. Did she love _him_ more? Or had she chosen as she did because she thought anything else was impossible? _He_ had been right there with her, not hundreds of miles away; _he_ had had a career, a future. Had her parents put pressure on her to choose the more socially acceptable of her loves? Had it been because _he_ could give her so many things Gemma couldn’t; a wedding, a normal life, children. Did it matter?

They’d talked about being together forever, but wasn’t that the kind of thing that teenagers in love always said? Hadn’t what they had shared been beautiful, even though it was over? Would she really have wanted never to have had those magical years?

This time there was a fond smile on Gemma’s face as she tore off the top page to begin again, and the discarded sheet that drifted to the floor was hardly crumpled at all.

A few minutes later, Gemma sealed the envelope and stuck a tatty old stamp from the tray on the phone table on to it. She slipped on an old cardigan and some trainers, and headed out of the door. There was a rightness to this, she thought; all the defining moments in their relationship had been shaped by letters. Friendship to love to the ending of it, and now perhaps to friendship again. 

It wasn’t far to the post box, just at the end of the next road over, but it felt a lot further than that. And the letter, just a folded sheet of paper in an envelope, was a heavy weight in her pocket. At the post box she hesitated with letter poised in the slot itself. Did she really want to do this? Could she really put aside all the other feelings that she had and just be friends with the only person she’d ever loved? Perhaps the only person she ever would?

After a long moment she let the letter slip from her fingers. In the end, without Sieza, all the colour was gone from her life. It was worth the risk, worth the pain of pretending that she had gotten over it, to have what she could have, even if it wasn’t what she wanted.

Despite the grey sky, as she turned to walk back to her little flat, Gemma felt a lifting of her heart. She felt like she’d done the right thing, and somehow, from here, things would get better.

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to my betas!


End file.
